Charged

How do you feel when you write?

I get charged when I write,

Like a sarge bout to fight,

Go solo no army cos

I know no one will harm me.

Can’t be hurt by a critics grin

Cos I’mma flirt with genius in

Each bar, leave a scar on those

Inflicted, didn’t need to be

Convicted to spit sick s**t.

 

My minds a dictionary

Presented like Pictionary

Cos I paint a picture

Words combine in a mixture

But flows refined cos

Line by line is linked

By that internal rhyme,

Cos this aint me from time to time

This is what I see in my mind

The world’s a flow

Not a show Shakespeare

It’s the beat not a stage

Don’t take a seat and stare.

It’s your life you’re the master

You control the mix,

Go slow or go faster

Or it’s your soul on the Styx.

 

But it can get fucked…

 

I can get confused sometimes,

Can’t tell fact from fiction,

Not sure what’s an act

And what’s real living

That’s why I write

Make sense of the dark

Hold my hand in the night

When I walk back through the park.

The flows a light

That shows me right

Gives me a beat I follow

But Ii wonder if it’s in this

Beat I wallow

Get divorced from life

Cos you force your strife

On a pen and a pad

Man I should call my Dad

 

If you get caught thinking your thoughts

Are transcendental

Then get lost in them start sinking

People think you’re mental